Violet
by tenkage onna
Summary: A car accident botches Josh and Neku's attempt at running away from home, resulting in Neku's death. Just when depression seem to be the worst in store for the remaining teen, a mysterious shadowy figure starts to follow him. AU
1. Chapter 1

er, not my FIRST fic for twewy, but certainly my first real attempt. its no wheres near done, and it'll update only until i run outa stuff XD enjoy while it lasts.

warning: AU, shounen ai, angst, ooc, oc, gore, character death.  
inspiration: a friend requested i write it, thats my only real inspiration XD  
reason: cuz she asked, and cuz theres not heaps of josh/neku horror stories.  
rating: T for now.  
pairing: eventual josh/neku  
summary: a car accident botches josh and neku's attempt at running away from home, resulting in neku's death. just when trauma and depression seem to be the worst in store for the remaining teen, the mysterious shadowy figure that starts to follow him around tops the charts.  
disclaimer: not mine, never will be.

its a ghost story, but dont get too complacent with that. hopefully it will be of some interest~!

00000000

Sirens blared, loud and intruding. Everything was fuzzy, and the only thing that he could clearly see was asphalt, and a dark liquid around them. Not far from his vision, he could see an unresponsive boy, who watched with unseeing eyes. The world tumbled as he tried to stand, falling quickly to his knees, which seared a bright flash of pain, his hands catching him. He wasn't sure how it happened, but the car was upside down, and everything from the spinning to his crawling was a blur. Looking around, the silverette panicked, a slow realization hitting his confused mind.

The seat next to him was entirely empty. Seat belt ripped in two, and vacant. Unfocused eyes connected the pieces, realizing the boy that was not in his seat, was across the road from him, limp like a doll. As fast as he could, the teen made his way from the wreckage, hands burning, knees numb, and everything a giant blur. The scent of burning rubber and metal filled his nose, gagging and serving only to keep him from focusing further.

Crossing the road never took so long in his life that night. And even now, even though he had no room in his head for more thoughts, he knew this would be the biggest deal of his life. First and foremost, was the creeping, numbing wave of fear, a fear that the boy he was crawling towards wasn't alive. The distant, but loud as hell, sirens that had motivated him to move made his head ache, slicing his worries, but adding more panic to his already frantic mind. Hurry, you might get hit, a voice told the silverette, and while the teen wouldn't have listened to ANY voice in his head that didn't seem his own, he didn't question it at all.

At one point, he could swear he tried to stand, but there was a cracking sensation that sent him straight to the ground, breathless and in more pain than before. He'd never felt so afraid in his life, he hadn't thought he COULD be this terrified. But when he made it to the still boy, the dark liquidy substance (Blood, the voice said) seeping into his already torn and tattered jeans, (His mother would be furious...) he thought his heart stopped.

Details were lost to him in the dark and his vision swimming, but it looked like an arm had snapped off almost. Even more grotesque, was how the hips turned at a completely unnatural angle. Clothing torn in so many places, and so soaked, it didn't look like anything more than a wet rag. He didn't dare look past the boy's torso, keeping wide and frightened eyes on the pale face that stared blankly ahead. As if only just now seeing him, an eye swiveled up, staring at him. Something black was running down his forehead, and it was dying the white of his eye. Dribbling slowly, like a teardrop that didn't want to fall, it pooled on a bitten and torn open lip, trickling into his mouth or around it.

He'd never forget how those lips quivered, whispering broken words he couldn't hear above the godforsaken sirens. Leaning forward nervously, as if the boy would suddenly bite his head off, (He wouldn't, no matter how he threatened.) he murmured a "W-What?" that was loud to his ears, but nothing near loud enough to pierce the sirens. The sound of booted feet, loud and so frantic, half drowning the whimper split words.

"D-Don't...g-g...g...ss"

Whatever he was trying to say, was cut off by a booming voice. "Theres two of em!! Quick, get the-"

He didn't hear them though. Only the soft attempts to speak, before someone grabbed him, pulling him away roughly. The teen struggled, ignoring how his body demanded he stop. "L-let me go!! I c-cant l-"

They didn't listen. And as they dragged him, in the light of the ambulances and fire trucks, he could see himself in the boy's glassy eyes. He could see the lips still moving, eyes widening a fraction as he quivered.

000

The world was slow to come back to him when he next woke up. Blinking slowly as the noises and scent of antiseptic hit him, Joshua realized he was in a hospital. It was a slow realization, due to how fuzzy everything felt in his head, but it made him go still. Why was he in the hospital? When did he fall asleep? Blinking quickly, he tried to sit up, stopping only when a searing pain went up his arm. He let out a hiss, dropping back to the stiff bed quickly.

What the hell happened? he thought, trying to keep his panic to a minimum. It wasn't like Josh to panic. There wasn't anyone in the room from what he could see, only other cots that sat, empty and blindingly white. Giving up momentarily on the scan of the room, he focused on his throbbing arm. His wrist was encased in a cast, and he found himself staring. He couldn't ever remember breaking a bone.

A sudden crackle of static broke the silverette from his shock, and he looked up quickly, seeing nothing. Just when he was about to call himself a lunatic, the static came back, and was followed by the heavy wooden door to his room opening. It revealed a young lady, messy auburn hair framing her face, her scrub and baggy pants a turquoise color. Her eyes were wide, surprised but relieved.

"You're awake." she said, not bothered when he didn't reply.

Feet tapping nearly silently on the linoleum floor, she crossed the room, a clip board in hand. Watching as she scanned the board and a few machines in the room, Joshua debated asking her what happened. Would a nurse know? Or would that be a doctor? He wasn't sure, he never really was interested in things like hospitals or their staff. As far as he knew, his only real dealings were with the pharmacists would supplied his mother with the occasional cold medicine.

The silence didn't seem to bother the woman at all as she quietly spoke to herself, scribbling things down. Turning to focus on the teenager, she smiled brightly. "So how are you feeling??" she asked, glancing at the door.

Frowning, he replied with a quiet, "I've never felt worse in my life." and he hadn't. At least, it didn't feel like it.

Nodding a little, the woman tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can imagine...you had some nasty injuries."

He raised an eyebrow, settling in his bed more comfortably. The woman went on, "You had glass in your knees and hands for one thing. You were cut up bad to...it looked like you'd been through a meat grinder." she said, a frown on her lips, eyebrows knitting.

Now that he thought about it, there WERE some bandages on his hands. Lifting the hand that wasn't in a cast, he eyed the bandages for a long moment. He remembered _something_ slicing open his hands. What the glass had belonged to, he wasn't sure. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind, tugging sharply, and he tried to ignore it at first. Everything was hitting him at once, and his lack of memory was bothering him...

Steeling himself for what he'd hear, he spoke slowly. "What...happened?"

The nurse went rigid, and she glanced around quickly. She was a little pale, and she chewed at her lip, clearly torn between saying it, and wondering if she'd be overstepping some boundary or rule. After a long moment, she replied, picking at her scrub. "You...you were in a car accident." she said carefully.

A long and heavy silence floated over the pair, Joshua taking in this information with startling reluctance. The woman watched the boy carefully, hoping she hadn't done the wrong thing by telling him. Eyes distant, the words struck a cord in the teen, bringing back a weak voice, shrieking sirens and haunting silence. Everything smashed down on him after that. The panic, the long crawl across the road, the blood, the boy- His mind froze up.

The boy...his eyes widened wide, and for the second time in his life, in what he was sure was one day, horror flooded him. Thats right, his mind quickly thought, we were...we were running away, and then- Oh god.

The nurse started, blinking quickly when one word spilled from the quiet teen. "Neku..."

She stared at the pale silverette for a long moment, as if he were possessed. Shifting her hold on the clip board, she frowned deeply, recognizing the name as one of the incoming patients from earlier. Around the same time as this boy had come in, she realized. Teethe biting down hard around her lip, she felt a wave of nausea hit her. "W-Who now?" she said quickly, trying to push down her flipping stomach.

All at once, the quiet and still boy was replaced with a twitchy and frantic person. "Wheres Neku?" he demanded, voice scratchy from lack of use.

Glancing away quickly and flinching, the nurse swallowed. "N-Neku...?" she questioned.

"Sakuraba Neku!" he clarified quickly.

A long pause followed, and Josh was tempted to repeat himself. "Oh...h-him." came the quiet reply.

Something about the way she said that made his stomach drop. "What happened to him? Is he okay?" He had to be, if he wasn't...

Shifting from foot to foot, the nurse debated answering this. She wasn't sure what would happen, but some form of breakdown was sure to follow. Being still in the early stages of her training, Eri wasn't sure how the news would affect her job, let alone the silverette in front of her. She was caught between a rock and a hard spot, and she half wished Joshua would see this and forget the question.

The silence was killing him. Was he okay? Did Neku escape with little more than a few broken bones? The memory of a twisted and shattered body refused to vacate his minds eye, and a worse paranoia washed over him. What if he was paralyzed? What if he was alive, and unable to move and just laying there worrying himself sick? The redhead always did have an unhealthy habit of thinking negatively. Josh didn't even entertain the thought in the background, the one that whispered, but was louder than any other voice.

"He..." snapping to attention, the teen listened anxiously, eyes narrowing in annoyance at how the woman kept pausing. Could she not see he was scared out of his mind here? "He didn't make it..."

Going unnaturally still, the silverette watched as Eri shifted her weight, refusing to meet his eyes. Disbelieving, he said lowly, "What?"

A tension worse than before filled the room, worse than the urge to move his wrist, worse than the paranoia. Josh always hated suspense when he was the victim of it. "H-He didn't make it." she said a tad bit louder. "I...he wasn't in my care, so I don't know the details but...he died a little after he was brought here."

The world momentarily, or he hoped, shattered around him. Died? his mind repeated over and over, the word sinking in slowly. No, there had to be some mistake. "A-Are you sure?" he said, feigning a sniff of contempt.

The flimsy act didn't go past the nurse, and not for the first time, she wondered why she had chosen being a doctor over a designer. "I'm...sure." she confirmed reluctantly.

All at once, the act crumbled and the words hit home. Neku was dead. Dead. The word never clicked as harshly as it did now, and he found his breathing stopping. His hearing began to hiss and crackle, a long beeping echoing in his ear, and he tuned out.

00000

one chapter down~


	2. Chapter 2

0000

It was dark out. From the still time on his watch, Joshua knew it was around eleven thirty. As he walked down the empty roads of Shibuya, devoid of all life, he felt distinctly...uneasy. Maybe it was because it was too chilly for summer, maybe it was because not a cricket chirped. The lack of lights, even by 104, unnerved him. Even in early morning, the city was NEVER this dark or empty. His footsteps echoed, bouncing off pricey glass windows and store fronts like children on a trampoline.

There was no moon to speak of, no light source, but a pale white light illuminated the road glinting off of the letter four that hung on the well known building. Honestly? It was friggen creepy. But he'd never admit that, let alone show it, and Josh kept his calm pace as he walked down the abandoned roads. Despite his cool and collected front, he wanted to run. Something about this deserted city frightened him, a nightmare that he knew he was in.

A soft static began to filter through his thoughts, and now that he thought about it, that static had been there the whole time. It echoed with his steps, swished with his arms, and swiveled with each glance, like it was following him. Something was mimicking him, and he didn't like it. Something cold, sinewy and lifeless, grasped his shoulder. It wasn't rough, it was just barely there, gentle and he would almost say loving.

He paused, watching the road that lead to the Scramble nervously. Whatever was holding him, didn't want him to go there. Josh lifted a foot to walk, experimenting, and the hand turned more insistent, warning him. As much as he hated being ordered, he listened. Something told him it was in his best interest to listen to whatever was behind him.

Turning his head slowly, curious of who it was, he was met with glassy amethyst eyes. He blinked, and the dark and empty Shibuya was gone, the hospital room left in its stead. The static, he realized, had been his mother's cell phone going off on vibrate. Blinking quickly, glancing around, the silverette just lay there in confusion as his mother hugged him tightly, sobbing hysterically.

"You're alive! Oh god, I thought you were dead-"

Dead. The word woke him from his stupor, only to send him spiraling back into his thoughts. Eyes wide and cast them at his mother's quivering shoulder, the expensive fabric wrinkling as she hugged her son in a death grip. He wasn't sure if it was an act, right now it didn't matter. All he could think of was dull eyes and dripping black, and that twisted torso, and that large chunk missing from a lip. And the word dead pasted all over it, stamping over any other thought.

Joshua was hardly aware his mother was shaking him by the shoulders frantically, much to the nurse's dismay. The girl looked so drawn between stopping her or leaving her be. It wasn't the same nurse as before, this one younger and looking far more frazzled. The only thing that kept the panicking woman from all out slapping her suddenly unresponsive son was the sound of a a bored but firm voice.

"Okay, okay ma'am. If you keep that up, you'll hurt the kid."

Turning her head, the woman set her teary eyes on a young man, who looked young for his age. His hair was pushed back in a frizzy mess, a hair band lacing through the mass of bright orange, leaving none to frame his pale and thin face. Beneath his white coat he wore a black scrub, and tight pants that didn't look at all like work place material. Narrowing her eyes, the woman brushed her pale blond hair from her view.

"And you are?" she asked, though it sounded more like a demand.

"Koki Kariya, a doctor ma'am." he said easily, the white paper stick in his mouth shifting to the other side as he began to walk further into the room.

A frown still marred the woman's face, but she did stop shaking Joshua. The man strolled over to the teenager, bending down a little to see into blank violet eyes. Jokingly, he waved a hand in front of the pale boy's face, raising an eyebrow when he noticed how the eyes flickered over to him quickly. Something akin to familiarity lit up the silverette's eyes, before they went dull again in disappointment.

"How is he? Will he be okay?" Joshua's mother demanded, worrying her smooth and slim hands into the fabric of her skirt.

Standing up straight, the redhead didn't look at the woman, removing the lollipop in his mouth for a moment. "He's just in shock. One of the nurses let it slip that the kid he came in with died." he said, sighing a little. Said girl was probably worried sick about her position in the hospital right this moment, along with the guilt when her patient had fainted. "He'll be fine. We'd like to keep him a little longer, to keep an eye out for anything, like internal bleeding."

"Keeping him? For how long?!" the woman cried, and Kariya could feel a headache coming on. He hated dealing with parents. "Over night for now. If everything goes well, he'll be home by tomorrow." he said, replacing the candy, sucking at it absently. The taste of the bean paste helped ease the growing pain in his head, and he turned towards the woman.

She was thin, almost frail, with curly hair done up in a bun, her face thin and smooth with what had to be makeup. Her lips with full and painted, frowning in a way that said she rarely didn't get what she wanted, and he could tell it wasn't far from the truth, her clothing all expensive silks and ruffles. Her long fingers and manicured nails were digging into the frilly hem of her skirt, her painted eyes narrowed in distrust, or maybe just displeasure.

Standing, she heaved a sigh. Her eyes were dry now, the front of Joshua's hospital shirt streaked black and blue from her makeup. "I'm...going for a walk." she said quietly, aware that she was abandoning her son for the moment. But the stress was getting to her, and she needed to redo her makeup. With a quick graceful turn, she left the room, her higheels tapping the linoleum with sharp clicks.

Heaving a grateful sigh of relief, Kariya turned his attention back to Josh. "Are you really that outa it, or are you fakin' it?" he asked, chewing lightly on the candy in his mouth.

The man got no reply, only a faint roll of the eyes and a frown. He really wasn't in the mood to talk, too caught up in memories and his thoughts. He kept seeing Neku's dull eyes, and it was like he'd never left the scene. It didn't help at all that HE'D been driving the car, because he was the one with the license between the two of them. It felt like it was all his fault, and he wouldn't even entertain the idea it hadn't been, not right now.

Heaving a heavy sigh at the lack of response, Kariya turned to the nurse at the door. "Keep an eye on him. I'm goin for a break."

Blinking quickly, the woman frowned a little. "Didn't you just get off of break?"

"Yeah, but parents take the life outa me."

The redhead left the room with a lazy stroll, leaving the two to their own devices. Honestly, he really had no motivation today. It had been hectic all night, surgeries and autopsies and god knew what else, and he was far too tired to deal with a guilt stricken teenager and his uppity mother. It was too early for this...or was it too late? He just wanted to sleep.

Twitching, the redhead glanced around, the sound of faint static ringing in his ears. Maybe something was up with the computers? None of the stationed nurses seemed to be worried though. Too much work, he thought tiredly. He was hearin shit now...

00000

"H-How're you feeling today?" came a weak, but chipper voice.

Glancing up from the mostly untouched tray of food (His mother had insisted that he eat, going as far as to taste it to show him it wasn't poisoned. She didn't quite understand WHY he wasn't hungry.) Josh raised an eyebrow. The nurse, a young woman with cropped black hair, ducked her head. Stupid question, she thought furiously. She glanced at the nearly full tray and frowned, but said nothing.

Joshua said nothing, just leaned back into the bed and watched as the woman skittered about, collecting waste and checking machines. She had entered with a large garbage can, which she had left near the door, and was emptying the toxic waste baskets into it. Toxic wasn't really the right word, so much as gross, she thought, wrinkling her nose. Shiki wasn't sure what prompted her or her friend Eri to become nurses. Probably because they were short on funds, and their designing skills werent landing them any money, and this hospital was always looking for new employees. The rumors of ghosts and a curse on all those who entered was a put off, but she had dealt with worse, she told herself.

Moving towards the tray, she frowned softly. "Are you finished with this?"

The teen shoved it towards her with a graceful flick of the wrist. "Yes."

"You should eat more..." Shiki hummed, not taking the tray.

"I'm not hungry." came the defiant reply. Or, at least it seemed that way. The way he crossed his arms (Carefully mind you, the broken wrist hindered his proud pose too much.) and turned up his nose a little seemed reminiscent to a small child having a tantrum. Shiki repressed the urge to comment on it.

Tilting her head, she fought back a sigh. "Why? Do you feel ill?"

"I feel like puking my guts up." he admitted, though it seemed like he didn't mean to say it. Eye twitching, he quickly amended it. "It tastes bad."

She had little doubt it was due to trauma, but didn't point it out. "It really would be best to eat...even just the salad." she sighed. Joshua said nothing more on the matter, either not listening, or far too entertained by the sunrise.

The tray was taken and dumped, and Shiki was gone shortly after, mumbling about stubborn kids. Repressing a sigh, Josh leaned back more into the bed, shifting about to try and get comfortable. It did little good, aside from irritating the numerous cuts and bruises that laced his back. He bit back a frustrated growl, closing his aching eyes for a moment. He was tired, but it was too distant to grasp onto. But it did help the aching, if only a little.

Outside, the sun rose steadily over the horizon, shadowing the buildings. Even at six in the morning, little to no light filtered through the room, offering little warmth. With his good hand, the silverette pulled the bed sheet closer to his chin, shivering. Why were hospitals so...cold? It was like they delighted in freezing their patients. Even the food was cold.

Blinking slowly, he felt the urge to yawn. The silent room echoed with a faint buzzing of static, comforting to his ears for some reason. But at the same time, it nagged on his mind. Glancing at the monitors near his bed, he watched the steady blue and green lines etch little spikes across the black, lighting the room up faintly. A small pressure began to build in the back of his throat, and he could swear it was a yawn, but when he opened his mouth a little, nothing came forth.

His wrist felt especially cold suddenly, even under the itchy sheets. Reaching a lazy hand over, Josh brushed the pads over the surface of his cast, nearly jumping. Chilly was an understatement. Down right FREEZING, that was a better example. Blinking quickly, he lifted his arm, trying to see his wrist better. He couldn't see much, just the same pasty white his skin always had been.

Making a face, he bit his lip, tucking the appendage back under the blanket near his chest. It was nothing probably. The cold was probably from lack of blood the his wrist. Josh was half tempted to press the call button, because if the cast was too tight or something, he'd rather if fixed now. But a sudden tiredness had sunk in, not that he entirely minded it.

It was entirely too easy to close his eyes, no yawn escaping him.

0000

It was dark out. From the still time on his watch, Joshua knew it was around eleven thirty. As he walked down the empty roads of Shibuya, devoid of all life, he felt distinctly...uneasy. Maybe it was because it was too chilly for summer, maybe it was because not a cricket chirped. The lack of lights, even by 104, unnerved him. Even in early morning, the city was NEVER this dark or empty. His footsteps echoed, bouncing off pricey glass windows and store fronts like children on a trampoline.

There was no moon to speak of, no light source, but a pale white light illuminated the road glinting off of the letter four that hung on the well known building. Honestly? It was friggen creepy. But he'd never admit that, let alone show it, and Josh kept his calm pace as he walked down the abandoned roads. Despite his cool and collected front, he wanted to run. Something about this deserted city frightened him, a nightmare that he knew he was in.

A soft static began to filter through his thoughts, and now that he thought about it, that static had been there the whole time. It echoed with his steps, swished with his arms, and swiveled with each glance, like it was following him. Something was mimicking him, and he didn't like it. Something cold, sinewy and lifeless, grasped his shoulder. It wasn't rough, it was just barely there, gentle and he would almost say loving.

He paused, watching the road that lead to the Scramble nervously. Whatever was holding him, didn't want him to go there. Josh lifted a foot to walk, experimenting, and the hand turned more insistent, warning him. As much as he hated being ordered, he listened. Something told him it was in his best interest to listen to whatever was behind him.

Turning his head slightly, he caught a glimpse of black, before blinding white light hit his violet eyes. Being in the dark, his eyes weren't used to the sudden adjustment. It took a moment or two to realize he wasn't in that barren Shibuya anymore, and the hand on his shoulder was from a doctor. Staring up in confusion at the wide and relieved eyes, he made to speak.

And promptly coughed up a lung.

Heaving a relieved sigh, Kariya let go of the teenager, running a hand through messy gelled hair. He'd just been on his way out the door, but of course it couldn't be that easy. Cracking open an eye, he watched as Joshua slowly stopped his fit, chest heaving. "Geez kid, three times in a day? Are you cursed or somethin?" he teased.

Blinking his aching eyes, the silverette looked up in confusion. "W-What?"

"You almost died." came the annoyed reply, as if Josh should at least know why he was depriving a man of a good nights sleep.

Staring for a long moment, the teenager shook his head quickly. "Excuse me. I didn't quite hear you, did you say d-"

"Dead as a doorknob."

An awkward pause filled the room, Josh going pale. Dead? But he'd only closed his eyes for a few minutes. Looking from the irritated redhead, he looked at his wrist, feeling nausea overtake him. Three times...the accident, he thought, and now. What was the second time? Kariya shook his head, uncaring for a reply. The kid was going to be the death of him.

"I take it you feel perfectly fine." he mumbled.

As if to spite him, a sudden ache flared in Joshua's shoulder, bright and stinging. He winced, but quickly covered it up with a glare. "I feel fine." he snipped.

Pretending not to see the wince, the redhead shrugged. "Well then, great. You get another day here before we're settin you free."

"Another day?" Josh repeated, eyes narrowing, "But I-"

"You nearly died in your sleep twice in six hours." he cut him off, annoyed. "You ain't goin anywhere." Consider it revenge for denying me sleep, he added mentally.

He wanted to fight that, but with the reasoning, Joshua couldn't honestly say he would rather go home. Not yet, not if it meant imminent and slow death. He slumped a little, lower lip sticking out a little. "Fine..."

"Glad you agreed."

The subject was closed then and there, and Joshua found himself cursing the redhead as he waltzed from the room. Sniffing a little, he looked away from the wide open doorway, glancing at his right shoulder curiously. It was the same shoulder that was grabbed in his nightmare, and he was uneasy with the idea of looking. Slowly, glancing around quickly, he lifted his right hand, and tugged the shoulder of his hospital gown down, and glanced at the skin.

What he saw he was certain would haunt him.

Curved over the skin was a dark purple bruise, greenish around the edges. Easily it could have been Kariya's, or his mothers with how they'd grabbed him. But what unnerved him was that the tips of the finger shaped bruise, faced his chest, the grip obviously coming from behind. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he ran a finger over the bruises, wincing at the flare of pain.

"What the hell...?" he muttered, eyes narrowing a little from their wide look before.

The sound of a nurse cheerfully greeting him in the hallway snapped Josh from his staring. Quickly, he covered his shoulder up again. Even as he did so, his completely covered wrist flared with a chill, a silent threat. Josh didn't know who was threatening him, he didn't even know how he knew it was one, but it was loud and clear; Don't tell. Feigning annoyance at the bubbly nurse, he promised himself he wouldn't tell.

Who would believe it came from a dream anyway? Was it even from the dream? He didn't know. But he was covered it up, picking at the food the nurse had brought. No one would know.

00000

done for nows~!! yes, the repeating dream is meant to be repeating. Dont think it ends there~!!


	3. Chapter 3

0000

The rest of the morning, Joshua had forced himself to stay awake. He wouldn't show it twice, but the dreams and near death experiences had left him shaken, and unwilling to sleep again. Twice was more than enough of a hint. At some point, he'd abandoned the uncomfortable cot, stretching his aching body and fighting a yawn. He hurt more than he'd thought he should...honestly, he'd only fallen on glass! Well...that was as much as he remembered anyway. There was a bandage around his head, and partially his chest, so he was sure they had a hand in the pain.

At eight in the morning, the hospital was much more active. Men and women in crisp white coats and blue and green scrubs walked quickly down the halls, disgruntled or looking more tired than they'd been in the lives. Outside, just a handful of steps from the glass and steel windows and door that blocked him and the world from meeting, was a large desk. Oval shaped, and cluttered with papers and computers, it looked like it was probably less than useful.

From that ovular desk, he'd spotted a few familiar nurses. Somehow or other, he'd managed to make them fear him, probably because he kept dying all the time. Heaving a sigh, he leaned back against the bed. His little stunt of leaving it for the bathroom adjacent to the monitors had nearly given the nurses heart attacks. Now Josh was confined to the bed, and if he didn't want trouble, it was probably better to keep still.

He'd never admit it, but he'd been anxious to see the bruise in another light, literally. The cold gray morning hadn't been the best of lamps, and Joshua wanted to see the mark clearer, make SURE it was really a hand. It could easily be from the accident, though nothing in his fuzzy memory indicated a hand had ever touched him. Murky yellow, acrid and hardly adequate, had revealed the spindly dark purple lines easily. Against his yellow dyed skin, they were a stark contrast, dark and angry, and easily, he could see fingers. Each one had ended at a point that dipped down, and his breath had caught at the sight.

Josh wasn't ready to admit a hand from a nightmare had left a dark bruise on him, one that stung like his very lungs were crushed beneath the digits. For ten minutes, while doctors and nurses panicked outside to find their missing ward, he'd stared at the marks. They were convicting. Of what, he didn't wish to think of.

As it were, he was just laying, unsure if he really wanted to leave the hospital. Hell, of course he wanted to leave, but now that his head right...the guilt seeped in much stronger. Guilt at the fact that HE'D been driving, that he clearly remembered why he'd lost control of the car. It was all his fault. And Josh hated to be at fault, he couldn't take criticism for anything, because he was too used to being perfect.

Needless to say, that night, he hadn't been perfect. And the result had been the death of the only other person in all of Shibuya he still cared for. Lifting a hand to his loosely bandaged head, he bit hard on his bruised lip. The pain grounded him, and kept him from dwelling too long. He didn't do guilt. Guilt was for the weak. But he was sure, after the brief period of thought, the idea would linger.

"Hello! Your mother was here earlier, she asked me to bring you some lunch!" came a perky voice, belonging to none other than Shiki.

He raised an eyebrow. "Weren't you just in here?" he asked.

"Grouchy I see." she hummed, making sure the food cart wouldn't go rolling away as she picked up his tray.

The scent something lukewarm lazily hung in the sterile air. It was a nice change from the stinging scent of antiseptic, despite how little he was in the mood for food. The tray was set down on the movable tray every cot came with, the weight making it dip a little. He ignored the comment on his mood and glanced at the bowl of what had to be ramen."You're giving a patient with heart failure ramen? Isn't that a little..." he trailed off, half wary.

"I guess its fine. Its not heavily salted or anything anyway." she replied, shrugging.

"Not salted?"

Shiki shrugged again, not replying. She wasn't a ramen nut, and she wasn't even sure how the food was made. She'd been given lunch duty, due to her slip up earlier. Not that she minded, it beat bedpan changes. Moving away from the unhappy silverette, she left the room and began her chore of delivering the trays again. When the nurse had left, the teen eyed the ramen warily.

"Whatever doesn't kill me..." he mumbled, reaching for the bowl and drawing it into his lap.

000

In the women's bathroom, a blond woman reapplied her lipstick with sharp movements. Her pretty violet eyes were narrowed as she glared at the mirror furiously. She may have been relieved her son was alive, but it was skin deep. She honestly had hoped when she got the call he was dead, because at least then the problems he'd been running from would have healed over.

Of course, fate was not on her side, and she doubted any amount of money could bribe the bitch to finish the job the gods of death had botched. Mao was not foolish enough to assume the gods cared for a petty woman such as herself, enough to kill her son though. He was picture perfect, he aced ever quiz, and was polite to all of his superiors. One would wonder why he deserved to die.

It had started a few weeks back, she thought bitterly, snapping the cap back onto her red lipstick. The scandal itself had nearly cost her husband his job. However, it wasn't even the scandal that had warranted this. It was the changes that started in her son afterwards. From his polite lacquer, broke free a rude child, with little to no respect for anyone. And if THAT hadn't been enough, he'd dropped his perfect grades.

Off the proverbial cliff had her perfect child leapt, more than willingly.

Smooth hands balling into small and tight fists, Mao resisted the urge to use her first instincts and lash out. Had last night taught her anything, it was that raw anger did little good. Raw anger didn't think ahead to pay a mechanic properly, and resulted in a faulty accident. Sneering, lips curling back to show pearly teethe, the woman made a mental note to have the man fired.

The lights flickered quickly, making Mao blink quickly. Glancing up, she fought back a sigh of disgust. Only the poor hospitals could be this rundown. Had she had a say in the matter, Josh would have been in a much nicer hospital. But this had been closest to the accident, thus it had been this one. Looking back down to the mirror, she jumped, eyes wide.

In the mirror, she could SWEAR she saw a fuzzy gray image, of a person she didn't think she'd see again. She held the dark gaze for a few seconds, blinking. She resisted the urge to scream, when the image was right next to her own, fuzzier than before. In fact, she couldn't even make out a face, not really. Only two dark eyes, that were hollow and bled hate in staticy trails.

Lower lip trembling, she took a step back, high heel clicking, and suddenly a hand lunged from the mirror. She didn't even have time to scream as the dark digits burst towards her, like the glass was water.

Mao would never ever express how genuinely relieved she was when the bathroom door burst open. As sudden as the hand had appeared, it vanished, leaving the blond woman with only the scent of burnt rubber.

"Mrs.!! Oh thank god!" a voice called, the image of a nurse, frazzled beyond all imagination, in the door frame.

Turning annoyed amethyst eyes on the woman, pretending she hadn't been so close to losing herself, Mao glared darkly. "WHAT? Am I not entitled to privacy in-"

"Your son! He-he, something bad happened!!"

Irked as she was about being interrupted, the woman frowned. "What?"

000

At first, he figured he was just tired. Being exhausted made you hallucinate, right? Besides, the static had followed Josh all day as it were, it was probably nothing. The shatter of the bowl of ramen echoed in the hospital room, drawing the attention of the untidy nurses and doctors who loitered around the desk outside. He didn't know why, but the static had become painfully, mind numbingly loud.

Clamping his hand over his ears, he stared with wide unseeing eyes at his lap as he curled into himself. It echoed, circling relentlessly in his ears until the pain made them feel damp, and he wasn't sure if they really were or not. He couldn't even tell if he was still sitting up or if he'd fallen sideways, and he reached a trembling arm to steady himself. The side of the cot was so far away, the shattering being a dim spark in his ears.

Joshua barely felt the hands on his shoulder, barely even saw the faces that swam in his view. Lips moved, eyes were wide and panicked, but nothing got past the sounds. It was like the static had gobbled up all other forms of noise. He stared blankly, fighting off the feeling of motion sickness he felt when the hands shook him. Why were they touching him? Could they not see he did NOT want to be so enclosed- oh god they kept swarming around him....!

Eyes wide and shaky, he felt something he'd never felt before. Claustrophobia. Only three or four people were around him, but their presence just felt too stifling, and suddenly his wrist began to flare up. Not pain, so much as icy and hot, numbing his arm. Lips moved quicker, the movements frenzied, and he was dimly aware of something wet. Did his wrist start to bleed?

Josh moved to look, but the moment his chin dipped, his stomach began to flip furiously. He froze up, aware of something wet on his face, and such a clammy feeling at that.

Suddenly a mute button seemed to be pressed. And with it, went the static. Breath hitching, the teen took only a moment to realize something had happened. Turning his eyes slowly, he caught sight of his mother bursting into the room, her mouth wide and flapping.

What socked him in the stomach though, was the lingering shadow by the oval desk, maybe just a little shorter than himself. It stood there, watching, he thought it was. A black mark slowly appeared over the gray. It wasn't even an inch wide, but the moment it opened, sound flooded his ears, normal sounds. Not static, just yelling doctors and a screaming mother.

For a long moment Josh just watched the fuzzy figure, the crawling whites and grays zig zagging randomly over what had to be a face. Swirling black met his own gaze, and it felt like the wind had been knocked from him. It just...watched. At least, he was sure it was watching him, and something clicked in his mind. The scent of burning rubber hit his nose, making him gag.

Black dribbles down ghostly pale white haunted his mind's eye.

And then, like it'd only been glancing over, the figure turned sharply, and walked away. Shadowy gray that trailed like smoke billowed out in the form of legs, a brisk pace tapping quietly. Suddenly, a sharp pain went through his face, and he wasn't looking at the desk or the gray. Blinking slowly, His eyes flicked over to see Mao, her hand still poised, her breathing heavy and eyes wild.

"Answer me when I call you!" she yelled, lips drawn back.

Lifting a shaky hand to brush the stinging, the teen stared for a long moment at the woman. Everything began to click together much too quickly, from the slap to what he'd seen, to the sudden memories. Mao turned from Josh, glaring at a doctor.

"He's coming home by tonight." she seethed.

"B-But ma'am, he's still in critical-"

"HE'S NOT STAYING HERE!!" she bellowed, uncaring right now. She knew exactly what her son had been looking at. And quite frankly? It scared her.

000

and now we stop, for I actually hafta write a ton more before I could update this D8


	4. Chapter 4

even a fillerific fanfic such as this has filler....filler, but somewhat neccisary filler. OH and i made a mistake before D8 i said shiki had told josh neku died, but it wasnt, it was eri. please forgive meeeee!

and to my one reviewer, _**Caper**_, thank you very much for the review! and i appreciate it, because it feels choppy to me sometimes. so thanks!

warning: ooc? um, nothing much. Oh and hinted er...shounen ai. Yup.

000

Joshua heaved a heavy sigh, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. Midday light streamed through the window, still open from his escape previous to now. The pale curtains billowed gently, and he could still remember looking down the three stories and the three foot jump to the tree branch outside his window. Will I make it? he had thought, but it was fleeting. He was Josh, he could do anything, he'd told himself. It was true to some degree.

He couldn't help but feel that confidence was misplaced.

Walking further into the chilly room, he eyed the window. Phantom giggles and whispers drifted lazily around the sill, and the less frequent gasping breaths and small moans lingered near the bed positioned in front of the glass. He gripped the window and gave it a sharp tug. The resulting slam of wood on wood gave him a small bit of relief, the thin line of his mouth relaxing slightly.

He let his fingers linger on the chilly white wood before pulling away, sitting back on his knees. The room was clean and tidy, a bookshelf pushed against the wall by his closet, a desk near the door. Normally, not a shirt would be found on the floor, but there were a few articles of clothing littering the carpet. Bright against the indigo carpet as they were, they seemed to accuse him.

Previous to his attempted run away, he'd been sorting through his closet, trying to find a set of clothing he felt worthy for his new life. Of course, they were strewn across a road somewhere just outside of Shibuya now, if they hadn't been tossed. The thought of his favorite clothing being thrown away made Josh frown. Ah, it figured. Not just ONE thing could go wrong, a whole myriad had to.

_"You're that worried about clothing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow._

_"Why not? I want to look nice for my new life." he had snipped, teasing but completely serious._

_The redhead had rolled his eyes, flopping back on the bed. "I suppose that makes sense."_

_Another shirt was tossed to the floor, no doubt pricey. "Of course it does. Its not every day you restart with your choice of belongings." Joshua reasoned, holding a shirt out in front of him. "Does this one look decent?" he asked, holding it near his torso and showing it off._

_Neku sat up a little and frowned. "All of your clothes do."_

_"True."_

Turning to look at the discarded clothing, he felt something akin to a sharp pressure settle in his chest. He didn't bother ignoring it this time, alone with his memories. He threw his legs over the edge of the bed, turning on his knees as he did so, and eyed the clothing. Leaning down, he ran a hand over the fine material, picking it up easily. With one hand, (the other recasted, as he'd somehow made the bone rip through the skin in his attempt to block the sounds) he couldn't exactly lift it and see the designs well. But even as it hung limply from his bruised and bandaged hand, the sun lighting it up, he could tell it was one of his more loved shirts.

He looked at it for a long moment, memories flashing through his mind. This had been the shirt he was wearing that day...Josh let it drop from his hand, watching it fall with a blank expression.

The faint scent of hair gel and sweat drifted around the shirt, which was warming up with his body heat. He found the warmer it got, the more he could smell the familiar scent. The silverette ran a hand lightly over the fabric, eyes softening a little. Josh was snapped from his thoughts by a distant calling, and he glared at the door frame in annoyance.

"I'm going out! Do what you want for dinner, just be here when I return!" Mao called up the staircase, not waiting for a reply.

She left the house quickly, her heels clicking against the cement sidewalk. When he heard the door slam shut, the teen felt his frown deepen. Alone once again, he thought bitterly. Reaching to his nightstand, where his cellphone sat. He hadn't taken it with him last night, and he had intended for it to be a sound sign that he wanted nothing to do with his family.

Fingers pausing, a split second thought keeping him from grabbing the pumpkin orange plastic. The realization that no one would pick up if he dialed that familiar number hit him hard, mouth opening a little as if he'd been punched. Josh bit his lip, clamping his hand shut in a tight fist before moving away from the phone. How could he make such a stupid mistake, when he'd just been thinking of the accident? Old habits die hard, he reasoned.

A sudden tightness in his chest reminded him again, the eighth time this day, and he shoved it down. I'm not going to dwell on him, he thought, standing from his bed quickly, eye twitching a little when the shirt fell soundlessly to the floor. Stepping over it, he made his way out of the room. He made his way slowly down the staircase, the carpet crinkling under his socked feet as he stepped down slowly.

It felt like decades had passed before he'd been able to walk. And likewise, he had slight trouble, mainly due to the aches and pains from his knees. Dimly, he remembered crawling on them over glass, over a hard road, after falling on them. So it wasn't surprising really, only annoying. He had a slight limp, and was careful as he made his way through the large house. Wouldn't THAT be awful, falling and unable to get help.

It was a fairly large house for a family of three, a few bathrooms and three bedrooms, with a large first floor. To his immediate right, was the living room, all white carpet and stiff furniture. To his left would be the living room he was actually allowed to use. Past that was a dining room and kitchen, decked out in only the finest furniture and appliances. In the last few weeks, he'd hardly stepped foot in the living rooms, and found himself staring at the wide screen TV as if he'd never seen it before. There were stickers and little dots of glitter paint on the black frame though, so he knew it was the TV set he'd had since he was thirteen.

"Mother pitched a fit over that." he hummed, running his good hand over the frame.

The glitter was rough and bumpy under the pads of his fingers, and the glitter came off where paint hadn't trapped it. Lips quirking at the feel of the dusty substance, Josh resisted the urge to brush it off on his pant leg. His mother would have his head if he did. Bad enough most of his best clothing was gone, she would maim him if he even stained another article.

Strolling towards the couch, he let himself fall onto it, sighing as he bounced a little. Honestly, Joshua wasn't sure why he'd come into here, as there was no real reason to. Maybe it was to escape the few memories this house contained of Neku. A plus to coming here, was that there was a TV and video game console, and while he didn't play video games very often nowadays, it seemed a good way to lose himself.

The old plastic was coated in finger shaped glitter paint splotches, yellows and pinks. Absently, he wondered why he'd stained his controller and tv this way, if only for a moment. He'd wanted to stake his claim on SOMETHING in his life, something only he could own. The paint, bold and girlish as the colors were, was worn from use and reminded him of the day he'd broke out the paint.

The coffee table in the room still had some pink paint in its worn surface, a sign of where the initial coloring had been done. His mother hadn't noticed the stains for a good two days. Annoyed, Josh had began to play his game, if only to get her to notice. The yelling echoed for at least a mile, he remembered with a faint smile.

An hour or two was spent silently playing an RPG of some sort, the only sounds coming from the grunts and cries of the characters. He'd always loved games, especially when he had a part in controlling their fates. To say he had a large ego would be a slight understatement. Being of the upper class with a reputation for being perfect did that to a kid. And for a long time, he'd honestly believed he WAS perfect.

His rude wake up call came during his first year of high school, with a classmate. He'd grown up with mostly everyone in his grade, but that year a new student had transfered. He went by the name Sakuraba Neku, and had an attitude that made even the nicest teachers want to throttle him at times. He himself adored picking on the stiff redhead, who would glare at him and snap viciously when he felt Josh deserved a response. It wasn't often, he recalled in amusement.

Their first meeting had been the equivalent to talking to a wall at first. A few cheery hellos, five or six teasing comments on Neku's looks and attitude, and one poke later ended with both of them in the nurses office. Absently, the silverette ran a hand over his cheek at the memory. It hadn't been best friends at first sight. He was surprised anything had actually formed between them, even now.

Resting his hand against the chilly cast, he sighed heavily. It was hard to play a game with one hand, and the memories refused to let him be. He wasn't a girl, he wouldn't break down and sob over this. But he wouldn't deny the sharp ache in his chest whenever he thought about it. Stroking the rough material idly with a thumb, he leaned back against the couch. It was neutral here, he could rest.

For the first time since he'd gotten home, Josh noticed the static hadn't followed him. He'd been so busy trying to shrug off any appearances of nervousness, that he hadn't even noticed the way the static had vanished after he'd entered the car. He wasn't sure if the lack of the buzzing was good or not, but he was relieved to some degree. While it had felt comforting at first, now it only felt oppressive.

Closing his stinging eyelids momentarily, he debated going to sleep. He hadn't slept since early this morning, and he'd only slept a few hours, if that had even been sleeping. He could die in his sleep, and no one would know until it was too late, he thought. Oddly, the threat of death didn't bother Josh too much at the moment. He blamed it on mild depression.

000

A slam woke the sleeping teenager with a start. Blinking quickly, Josh glanced around quickly, slight panic racing through him at the jarring sound. He couldn't help but unconsciously feel for the burning strap across his chest to unhook himself, or look to his side to see if the passenger seat was vacant. He jumped when he realized there was a dark spot next to him, a faint scent of...something sharp lingering.

"I'm home!!"

Glancing to the entrance to the living room, Josh was relieved to see his mother hanging up a coat. Glancing back, he found nothing. Blinking, he frowned. Hallucination much? Standing up quickly, eager to vacate the room, the silverette made his way over to greet the woman, doing his best to seem composed. The last person he'd show weakness to was this woman.

"Welcome back." he said flatly, as he always did.

The blond woman eyed her son, something akin to disdain flashing through her eyes briefly. "Have you eaten?" she asked sweetly.

He inspected the slight blood crusts underneath his good hand idly. "No, not really."

Mao hummed absently, fluffy out her sprayed bangs with deft movements. "Ah." she replied, not really caring. Turning a little, she eyed the rumpled state her son's clothing was in and her eye twitched. "Sleeping, were we?...Is that glitter?" she hissed, looking at how his pants shined lightly.

Josh decided to press his luck, doing a mock twirl. "Ah, it is. How does it look~? I was thinking pink worked better, but gold was all I had..." he hummed, pouting a little.

Mao's lips drew back in a disgusted sneer, and she prepared to fully lay down what she thought of it. "You look like a-"

Only to be cut off by a knowing grinning teen. "Ohhh but enough about me. How was your day?? I see you bought some new shoes."

Not thrown off too much by the interruption, Mao rolled her eyes. Ah yes, cheap flattery. "My day was fine thank you." she said curtly, turning to place her expensive shopping bags down.

The interaction wasn't anything out of the ordinary, as the two hardly got along in any meaningful way. Especially in the last few weeks. Things had gotten more and more tense as the days went by, and it wasn't uncommon for Joshua to attempt to push the woman further than necessary. Mao, for her part, reminded herself he was still a minor, and some nasty charges were in store if she hit him. She had little doubt he would make a scene, but then again, he was a prideful thing. The attention and press would make him out to be weak, and somehow the woman doubted he'd stand that for long.

Loitering a moment longer, the teen debated on eating or retreating to his room. He'd barely eaten his ramen before it fell this morning, but he'd been eating all day it felt like. Shifting a little, he resisted the urge to sigh. It didn't matter, he just didn't want to be near his mother. It was too awkward. After a moment, Josh decided his mother was done speaking to him, and turned on his heel, heading for the stairs.

The firm click of a door shutting made the woman breathe a sigh of relief. Eying the bag she set down, Mao felt a lump wedge itself in her throat. She'd expected this much though, knew from the onset that the chances were there. Especially after their encounter the day before yesterday. Shuddering, she kicked off her shoes with little care, opening the bag and removing the pricey box.

Inside it however, were not shoes. Candles of questionable quality, a few dozen miniature statues of important religious figures cluttered the bottom, with several bottles and flasks and booklets. Amethyst eyes scanned the contents with contempt, not being a religious woman herself. But if it meant that the month's events would eventually dissipate, she was more than willing to try this.

She hadn't gotten detailed information on how to set up the glossy stone figurines, or the powder or water. So instead of ponder it carefully, she followed the loose guidelines the clerk had given her. His words had been gibberish, and she knew her son would have understood, but she didn't at all. All she'd made out was that she had to place a figure in each corner of every room. After that, it was a dull string of math vocab.

So she set about resting each stone effigy around the house, saving a few for Joshua's room. She wondered vaguely what to do if he noticed the unhidden ones. It didn't matter right now, she thought, placing the rest of the figures back in the box. She'd return to the shop tomorrow for added information, hopefully that boy wouldn't be there. With that done, she heaved a sigh of relief. Already she felt more comfortable.

With one last glance downstairs, Mao made her way up the steps, not bothering to turn the hall light off. Josh wasn't asleep anyway, she thought tiredly.

000

neeeext chapter plz...(rubs at tired eyes) whys writing sleep, make ME sleepy.


	5. Chapter 5

sorry for the long wait, i kinda...lost interest in the series for the moment. whats more, i had major writers block. so, please forgive my long pause in updates. thank you to everyone who reviewed or favorited this or even just read it! i really do appreciate it ne.

warnings: OOC, a lil gore, some language.  
disclaimer: if it were mine, it'd never make deadlines. so no, i dont own twewy

00000000000

A hand idly traced over the rough details of a statue, the pad of a finger running over the hollow lifeless eyes. With lifeless eyes of their own, they watched as a crack formed down the center of the stone, a distinct ping echoing in its wake. A frown marred the hazy face, making the flashing zig zags of white and gray and black split in half.

When the hand left, the cracked figurine split in two, the stone falling to the polished wooden table with a loud thud. It would be dented, scuffed for sure, when morning came. Lifting the hand to its face, the figure stared at it for a long moment. The squiggling lines scurried over the split in its finger, sealing it up with frantic movements. There was no change in expression as the figure turned slowly towards the staircase, eying it blankly.

It took one step forward, mist dancing around the shadowy limb as it swung out, and then misted over. The scent of burnt rubber wafted over the shattered statue, which watched with hollow eyes as the figure vanished.

000

It was dark out. From the still time on his watch, Joshua knew it was around eleven thirty. As he walked down the empty roads of Shibuya, devoid of all life, he felt distinctly...uneasy. Maybe it was because it was too chilly for summer, maybe it was because not a cricket chirped. The lack of lights, even by 104, unnerved him. Even in early morning, the city was NEVER this dark or empty. His footsteps echoed, bouncing off pricey glass windows and store fronts like children on a trampoline.

There was no moon to speak of, no light source, but a pale white light illuminated the road glinting off of the letter four that hung on the well known building. Honestly? It was friggen creepy. But he'd never admit that, let alone show it, and Josh kept his calm pace as he walked down the abandoned roads. Despite his cool and collected front, he wanted to run. Something about this deserted city frightened him, a nightmare that he knew he was in.

A soft static began to filter through his thoughts, and now that he thought about it, that static had been there the whole time. It echoed with his steps, swished with his arms, and swiveled with each glance, like it was following him. Something was mimicking him, and he didn't like it. Something cold, sinewy and lifeless, grasped his shoulder. It wasn't rough, it was just barely there, gentle and he would almost say loving.

He paused, watching the road that lead to the Scramble nervously. Whatever was holding him, didn't want him to go there. Josh lifted a foot to walk, experimenting, and the hand turned more insistent, warning him. As much as he hated being ordered, he listened. Something told him it was in his best interest to listen to whatever was behind him.

It suddenly hit him how familiar this all was. No, not familiar, a clone of the distant dreams from the hospital. Going completely still, the teen just stared ahead. Every time he dreamt this, he nearly died. What would happen if he didn't give into impulse and turn his head this time? Biting his lip hard, Josh debated turning around, or shrugging off the hand, or anything.

A scent he hadn't noticed in the previous dreams swirled around in the air, not all together unpleasant. But there WAS something behind this scent, past the strawberries and the faint scent of cologne, and it was a little noxious. Not the rubber he'd been smelling, but certainly SOMETHING singed. A burning...something. But...

"But what...?" he murmured aloud, voice a quiet whisper.

The fingers relaxed a little, and he could sense the relief in whoever or whatever was behind him. A sudden surge of the strawberries filtered past the burning something, the static growing a little louder. It was easier to find his voice now that Josh had spoken once. "Who...or what, are you?" he asked carefully, trying not to seem afraid, but not threatening. Lord knew what this creature could do.

It could bruise you to the bone, a voice told him.

At first, he didn't think the figure had heard him at all. In fact, he prepared to ask again, annoyed, when the fingers clenched a little around him. It seemed oddly hesitant. Like it wanted to tell, but wasn't sure if it should. Deja vu hit him like a ton of bricks, and had it been any other situation, he'd simply demand the answer. Somehow, just like the chilling feeling he'd had before he'd learned of Neku's death, he knew he did not want to know.

Before he could really press the matter, the fingers dug in sharply, drawing a hiss from him as something warm spilt. Darting wide eyes down at the dark stain that began to grow on his chest, Josh felt his breath catch. Blood? The scent of strawberries all but vanished with a sharp noxious scent, overpowering and choking. Despite common sense, he whirled around, to stare into two hollowed out eyes.

He just stared for a long moment, eyes wide. He hadn't woken up, he was staring into the eyes of someone, a person. Hollowed out black eyes, a strangely clear gray face stared back at him, the only signs he should be afraid being the sneer it wore. A hand, staticy like that of an old TV set, came to rest on the edge of his forehead. As it began to drag down, a splitting pain went through him, and the silverette felt his heart stop.

It was only a frantic voice and the touch of cool hands against his back that saved him from the impending death. "For god's sakes, do NOT die!! Wake up you idiot, WAKE UP!!"

Shooting up in bed, Josh stared at two of the most relieved blue eyes he'd ever scene in his life. So many emotions flew through them, but they were gone in seconds of his awakening, leaving the teenager to stare in confusion and horror at the opposite wall. What....what was that? His heart was hammering at his chest a thousand miles per hour, his breathing choppy. There was the distinct feeling of warm wetness dripping down his chest, and the silverette looked down slowly and nervously.

It didn't surprise Josh to see the dark red stain on his nightshirt. But he still gave a sharp jerk, eyes wide. Dreams cant hurt you, dreams cant hurt you. Why was this dream hurting him?! He didn't know, he didn't know...! All the silverette could do was stare at the blood that steadily dripped down his torso, uncharacteristically afraid and feeling a helpless feeling he'd never quite felt before.

000

Mao felt the undeniable urge to throttle something. She watched, eyes narrow and furious, as a nurse wrapped a bandage around the clearly bruised shoulder blade. Somehow, down the teen's chest, sliced viciously, were what were clearly claw marks. His forehead sported a gash that shouldn't be there, and Josh swore he hadn't done a thing to get these wounds.

"How will he be?" she snapped, the silence getting to her.

The nurse jumped a little, glancing over his shoulder at the woman. "U-Uh...he should be fine. But the head wound is worrisome. The skull might have cracked..."

For his part, Josh took all this rather well. Confused, annoyed, and undeniably frightened by everything that was going on, he was rather composed. If composed was staring blankly at his shoulder as gauze swallowed it up. All he could think about was the pain in that nightmare, and how REAL it all felt. And slightly, of the all too familiar voice and the eyes he could swear he'd seen upon waking.

Ghosts don't exist, he scolded himself. Any other time, he'd contemplate the idea of an afterlife, souls that didn't rest. But right now, something unrestful had nearly killed him, and the last thing he wanted was to think of something that could maim him, while he couldn't do a thing in return. If there was anything Josh hated, it was feeling weak.

A few hours later, he'd been sent home. Nothing was amiss aside from the gashes and bruises, and his mother refused to leave him here another night. "Besides, he has school!" she'd spat, and he felt the urge to bang his head into a desk. School. Of course. Because it wasn't enough he'd been physically scarred, she just had to push the mental scarring as well. He wasn't sure how he'd get through a day of school right now. He wasn't sure of anything, something out of character and unnerving.

As he lay on the changed bedsheets, in a new shirt, he stared blankly at the ceiling. Something he'd done for a week, though in much different circumstances, it oddly comforted him. The static in his ears was back, though only he could hear it, lulling his chaotic thoughts. In three hours, routine would kick in, Josh thought. Routine left little time to think, and right now, he didn't mind that.

000

The walk to school had never taken so long in his life. Probably because Joshua honestly never expected to see the damned place again. Narrowing his eyes in a half glare at the polished windows and smooth steps that adorned the entrance, it took a lot to really push himself to enter.

On cue, every student he passed just about turned with wide eyes, staring and whispering and pointing. The silverette held his head up high, ignoring the rude strangers. What did they know anyway? The crash must have made the news, he thought bitterly. Why wouldn't it? Son of a famous man and woman nearly died in a car accident, wounded and killing another. Of course it would be on the news. It didn't matter though, not really. What business was it of theirs?

He turned a corner, walking slowly to draw out the inevitable, arriving at his locker. Spinning the lock's dial to the right codes, it unhinged easily. And out poured several dozen letters, some spilling to his feet. Eying the envelopes, most of them pink, while a few were just blinding white, he picked one up from the stacks absently. A name, a girl's, was sketched across the back, the lines wavy and he felt his eye twitch. It couldn't be another love letter. Who would be so inconsiderate to send him their overly dramatic words just a day after he'd nearly died?

With nimble fingers, he opened it carefully, a habit he'd picked up years ago. As he read it, he couldn't help but stare. It was a get well soon card, scented daintily with a slight perfume. Josh slipped the letter back inside, opening a few more letters if only to pass time. Five letters later, he felt relieved to know he wouldn't need to deal with love letters. Yet a knot began to form in his throat.

All the letters said the same thing. Get well soon, sorry about your friend. Each time he read that line, he was forced, little by little to realize the reality. Sure, the facts had always been there, but until now it was a mumbling, only rising to a scream when he'd first heard the news. After all, "He's dead" doesn't hold the same power over "HE'S FUCKING DEAD".

Staring at the books he'd never intended to touch again, in a school he didn't think he'd see again, in a uniform with letters in his hand he'd never wanted to see in his damned life again, the numbness began to rapidly fade. The paper in his hand crinkled loudly amongst the whispers, his hand shaking only the slightest as he let his bangs hide his eyes.

And it all hit.

He was dead.

000

Running a thumb pad over the rugged edge of the statue, Hanekoma frowned. Never in his years had one broken. He'd heard of it happening, but... Across from him, Mao sat at the counter, lips in a tight line and dipping, eyes narrowed in suspicion. She'd come in only moments ago, shrieking her head off and it was a wonder that Sho, one of the cashiers, hadn't ripped her head off. The teenager wasn't known for patience after all.

Shifting in her seat, the woman fought back a snippy sigh. "Well?" she snapped.

Looking up from the shattered marble, the man debated on how to say this. "Well...nothing was wrong with it, or how you arranged them...but..."

"But?"

"It wasn't a ghost that shattered this."

The way he phrased it made the woman go stiff. Eyes widening quickly, then carefully narrowing, suspicious. "What do you mean?"

A moment of thick silence went by. The man was trying to think of what to say, eying the charred edges. Glancing up, he watched the volatile woman carefully. Mao was liable to freak, cause a scene, and entirely ruin any hope of fixing this, if it could be fixed. He wouldn't mention the chances of fixing this. "Can you keep this between us?" he asked at last.

Raising an eyebrow, the woman wrinkled her nose. "What is it? Some personal health score?"

Around them, the restaurant continued on, waitresses and customers passing them with little regard. This probably wasn't the right place, let alone the right person, to handle this sort of secret. But the victim in question would only get hurt if he knew. It wasn't a risk he wanted to take. "No. Its only a guess, I haven't gone through heavy analysis, but....Whatever did this made a ghost seem like the least of your worries."

Staring hard at Hanekoma, Mao contemplated what to do first; demand what was wrong, or curse her luck. The one thing she had tried to do away with, seemed to haunt her far worse than it had when it was alive. "What is it?" she asked, settling with something she knew well.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, one debating, one anxious. Heaving a sigh, the man tore his eyes from the charred and broken figurine and scratched at the back of his neck. "Y'know what? The truth? I don't know." he admitted, half lying.

Mao felt her eye twitch. "You're lying."

"No." he said, pausing to pick up the desserts menu from the table. Since Mao was treating..."I'd like to meet your son."

"My son? Why?" the woman asked, instantly on the defense.

"He's obviously the target. He probably knows something, or can answer my questions better."

The blond woman was silent, shoulders tense and mouth a thin line. She wasnt comfortable with the past being stirred up, not when she'd tried hard to cover it up. Hanekoma pretended not to notice, thumbing through the plastic pages and glancing at the over priced cake and pie slices. Who paid five bucks for a slice that small? he thought.

A waitress came by, smiling brightly. "Hello, may I get you any desserts? We have-"

"We'll have none, thank you." Mao hissed.

"Yeah, I'll take two of this please."

She just about slaughtered the man. Was he deaf? she thought in disbelief, watching the vulture that waitresses and waiters were scribble this down and scuttle away before she could correct the order. Instead, she shot the man the most venomous glare she could muster. If looks could kill...

Resisting the urge to strangle something, she spoke as calmly as possible. "I'd rather you not speak to him."

"Why not?"

"He's a busy child." Mao insisted without thinking. "He's caught up in homework and such."

Hanekoma shrugged. "Whenever he's free. It wont be long."

"He has a very tight schedule. And he's grief stricken." she hissed, eyes narrowed. "I'd rather you not bring up his dead friend."

Mao honestly didn't care if Neku was brought up, and she didn't care what Josh might say or do. But she didn't want him to know she played a hand in this. No, it wouldn't be wise. Especially not if he ratted her out, which he would if he knew. The man frowned, understanding that. Something told him it wasn't her real feelings, but he respected that. On the other hand...

"Right right. If he gets time, I'll talk to him."

"I don't want you talking to him at ALL." she spat, rising from her seat. "This conversation is over." she muttered, stalking away angrily.

Watching her go, Hanekoma sighed. Something about Mao nagged at the back of his mind, and he had little doubt it was common sense. She was hiding something of importance, something she didn't want anyone to find out. Whatever it was though, he didn't know. Sighing, he glanced down at the plate that had just been set in front of him. It was then he realized she'd left without paying the bill. He dared to glance at the price, wincing at the amount of zeros.

Perhaps it had been foresight telling him he would be paying for the meal after all, rather than some conspiracy.

000

Soft footfalls alerted the teenager to a presence. He didn't need to look, though he did, to know that it was Rhyme, for she was the only one that spoke to him. The girl was small, only maybe thirteen at oldest, and in junior high only because of her grades. As such, she was significantly younger than he or any other kid here. But Joshua found a slight friend in her.

"How're you holding up?" she asked, voice soft and genuinely concerned.

Turning his dulled purple eyes to the girl, tired and worn out from school already, he regarded the tiny frown. He found a friend in her, because she knew how awful being "perfect" was. She came from a well off family, one where she was constantly pressured to do as well as possible and then some, or risk the disownment her dear brother so often faced. She understood. And that was better than rambling to an idiot who knew nothing.

"Fine I suppose. Though if one more person says "sorry for your loss"..." he mumbled, eye twitching.

A nervous smile crawled onto Rhyme's face, and Josh had little doubt she had intended to say just that. Scoffing, he rolled his eyes. She was too kind to think to not say it, really. Pulling up a seat, careful to avoid the one to Joshua's immediate right, the blond girl took a seat and frowned once more. "Do...you want to talk about it?" she questioned, blue eyes glittering faintly under the lights.

Frown deepening just slightly, the silverette glanced away from those kind eyes. Everyone expected him to break down at any moment, and he wasn't sure he could resist that for too long if they kept offering him the option. Lips drawing into a thin line, he shrugged. "I'm fine. Just...overwhelmed." he admitted.

Admitting such a thing meant it must be pretty bad, Rhyme thought. She kept silent, waiting to see if Josh might continue. They sat in silence, awkward, before finally Josh got sick of it. "It just hit me suddenly. You...don't expect to go so long before it actually dawns." he murmured, uncomfortable with the admission. He didn't show weakness often enough to be comfortable with it.

Nodding, Rhyme understood. "It was the same when my grandparents passed away." she admitted.

"It wasn't until this morning. And everything has been so chaotic..." he muttered, realizing he was rambling and hushing up quickly.

Rhyme was about to comment, before she was silenced by the teacher entering the room. The class hushed instantly, as Konishi-sensei was the LAST teacher they'd dare to insult. Her presence was commanding, her clothing in style and crisp. She regarded the empty seat between Rhyme and Joshua, frowning a little deeper than usual. The look in her eye made the silverette wary, as he'd had to endure two class periods of lectures on why they would miss Neku, even if no one liked him or would notice the frequent ditcher's absence.

Thankfully, the woman didn't mention his absence, and didn't say anything regarding Joshua's bandages. The lack of comment both relieved and sickened him though. She didn't care, he knew. And somehow, despite how little he cared for other's opinions, it struck him hard. The rest of the period he sat quietly in his seat, only half listening. Rhyme's concerned eyes occasionally glanced his way, and he tried to pretend he felt perfectly fine.

He all but darted from the room the moment the bell rang. He caught himself though, because he still had an image to keep up, and forced his still aching knees and feet to slow down in the throng of students. It was lunch, so he had time, no reason to rush. A churning in the teen's stomach made him double his pace, despite that he knew he wouldn't puke. He never puked unless he had a terrible illness.

He somehow doubted depression counted as a terrible illness right now.

The bathroom doors smashed open, the metal handles slamming harshly in the ceramic room. Thankfully, there were no students in there, or Josh wouldn't know quite how to react. In the last day, nothing seemed to be in his character anymore. Things Josh knew the answer to, or he did normally, just eluded him. He just wanted a respite for the moment, the day, the week, the next decade.

"You're so dramatic..." a whisper said, twisting around the room.

For a moment Josh wondered if he'd spoken aloud. Shrugging it off, he made his way towards a sink, not sure what he was going to do, but feeling the urge to do so. Half of him was disappointed when nothing appeared there save for his own reflection, staring back with a mild frown. Another half scolded him, what did he expect to see? Shaking his head faintly, he ran a hand through his bangs and closed his eyes. He was delusional from lack of sleep and fear, thats all, he told himself.

Why was everything so ridiculously off? he thought bitterly. The lack of his normal calm and cool character was unnerving, and even more so, his paranoia was gaining on his sanity. He hoped it was a fleeting phase, simply brought on by an accident and loss in one day. At the shrill of the lunch bell, sounding off that it was officially started, Josh opened his eyes to glance at the door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could swear he spotted...a distinct blue, and a flash of musty orange. Looking quickly at the mirror, he stared for a long moment, wondering if he'd honestly saw what he thought he did. But nothing remained in the reflective glass but his own haunted gaze.

000

a-and dooone for the moment! More shall come eventually, probably around this summer at the latest. For that is when I am in my twewy fandom, so...i'm sorry for the long waits!


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